


now even breathing feels alright

by adamganseys



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Making Out, Sleepovers, gratuitous mentions of kissing and hands idk, ronan being embarrassing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 19:00:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17106329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adamganseys/pseuds/adamganseys
Summary: His mind was brought back to this Adam and the feel of his hand underneath Ronan’s own. “Hey, man,” Ronan said, all casual, “If you want to retest the theory, I’ll lick your hands for you anytime you want.”Which was a very weird thing to say, particularly for a—relationship?— that had started barely two weeks ago. Ronan was back to considering suffocating himself with his pillow.





	now even breathing feels alright

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is just a result of me missing these boys in the midst of not having much inspiration for my other WIPs and wanting to write a short under 1k (lol) thing where Adam mentions that he used to lick his hands as a kid to try to ~moisturize~ them which I always thought was a really endearing detail and Ronan, being Ronan, is like "lmao I'll lick ur hands for u any time u want just say the word babe ;)" and Adam is like "..........." and somehow it turned into this rambling pointless mess so uh. Enjoy.
> 
> Title is from All My Days by Alexi Murdoch.

Ronan marveled at the fact of being allowed to sleep in Adam Parrish’s bed as the boy in question brushed his teeth in the bathroom. This was only the second time in as many weeks, and Ronan was still fidgety with nerves and disbelief and want at the prospect of Adam being so close. 

When Adam finally collapsed onto the mattress next to where Ronan was already sprawled, both of them in sweatpants and a t-shirt, Ronan was suddenly at a loss of what to do, so he kicked Adam lightly in the shin. Adam turned his head to look at him, eyes squinting in annoyance. 

“You take forever to brush your teeth, Parrish,” Ronan complained, for no real reason. 

Adam looked unimpressed. “Yeah, well, got to keep those whites pearly,” he replied dryly.

“This place is cold as shit,” Ronan went on, because Adam was still looking at him, and he needed to keep talking so he wouldn’t roll on top of Adam and kiss him, the way he desperately wanted to. 

“You don’t get to complain right now, Lynch. You’re the one who showed up just as I’d decided to stop trying to fruitlessly memorize Latin declensions and go to sleep.” 

Ronan raised an eyebrow. “Are you not planning to sleep right now?” 

Adam swallowed, and his gaze dropped to Ronan’s lips. “I am.”

“Okay,” Ronan said. “So go to sleep.”

“I am,” Adam repeated, softer, even thought the lights were still on and the blanket was still lying folded at the end of the bed. 

Now Ronan wanted to bite that spot on Adam’s neck, right underneath his jaw, that had made him gasp embarrassingly loud that time a few days ago that they had made out for almost ten minutes outside Monmouth, Adam’s back pressed against the BMW door, Ronan’s hands slipping underneath Adam’s sweater, and then Gansey had pulled into the parking lot with Blue in the Pig’s passenger seat, both of them having an excellent view of the spectacle, and Adam’s eyes had been so dazed when Ronan pulled back, asking _what, what, why’d you stop_ and chasing after his lips, until he finally noticed that they had company, and then he hurriedly reared back, ears turning pink as Blue and Gansey exited the Camaro with matching looks of amusement. 

But this wasn’t the time to think about that, so Ronan’s eyes lowered from Adam’s face to his hands resting on the threadbare sheet between them, as was instinctual at this point. 

“Shit, Parrish,” Ronan said into the quiet. “Your hands look like the fucking Sahara.” 

Adam blinked and looked down. “I—oh. Yeah.”

Ronan reached over and grabbed one of his hands, feeling the roughness between his fingers, words on the tip of his tongue.

“I ran out of the hand lotion,” Adam murmured before the words could escape, words with a similar shape. “A week or so ago.”

There was a buzz under Ronan’s skin from the open acknowledgement of the gift, the first real one that wasn’t fleeting and passed over easily like so much that was unsaid between them. Ronan wanted to press Adam’s knuckles to his lips, wanted to let him know how he’d memorized every jut of bone, every dip of skin. He thought that he could probably draw Adam’s fingerprints if asked, better than any mechanical scanner, any press of ink on paper. 

He thought about how he wanted to memorize the rest of Adam’s body the same way, but that was a place he was still too afraid to go. 

Ronan’s throat moved as he traced and untraced intertwining lines, Adam’s future hidden somewhere in them. “You could’ve told me. I would’ve dreamt you another bottle.” 

Adam sighed. “I know.”

“I’ll dream it for you tonight,” Ronan promised.

Adam smiled at him, a grateful thing, and then his eyebrows furrowed in concern. 

“I’ll be fine,” Ronan said quickly, already knowing what Adam was going to say, his worry about the instability of his dreams ever since—ever since everything Ronan was trying his best not to think about. “I brought out a stuffed Chainsaw yesterday.” 

Concern turned to bewilderment. “A stuffed….” 

“Chainsaw, but as a stuffed animal,” Ronan explained. 

Adam stared. “Right. And why exactly did you dream that?”

“Thought maybe if I gave it to Opal, she’d stop trying to eat the real Chainsaw. If not, I’ll give it to Chainsaw as a consolation present. That bird’s narcissistic as fuck, she’ll love it.”

“I wonder where she gets that from,” Adam deadpanned. 

“Don’t be a smartass,” Ronan replied, ruffling Adam’s hair. 

Adam smirked, and then added, voice teasing, “You could always sleep holding the stuffed animal. You know, so you’re not as scared at night.”

It came out before Ronan could stop it. “I have you for that.”

He wanted to take a pillow and smother himself with it. Maybe then his mouth would stop ruining his life.

Adam’s eyes widened before he let out a surprised laugh. He moved closer and clutched Ronan’s t-shirt between his fingers. Ronan tried to stop the red creeping up his neck, but he suspected that it was hopeless. 

Maybe his mouth wasn’t the worst thing, though, because Adam was still smiling, and it might just have been wishful thinking, but his expression was something like _charmed_. Adam trailed his hand up Ronan’s chest and throat to this face, thumb dangerously close to his lips. 

“I suppose that’s true,” Adam hummed, fingers running back and forth on Ronan’s jaw, almost absently, and Ronan’s heart leapt. Ronan put his own hand over Adam’s on his face, fingerpads on knuckles on skin. 

“You know,” Adam mused, “When I was a kid I used to lick my hands when they got chapped, to make it less painful. Didn’t realize that it just made them drier.”

Ronan’s chest clutched almost painfully as he conjured up an image of a young Adam Parrish, small and scrawny and yet older than his years, trying to alleviate the ache of dry hands by _licking them_. Maybe he’d bring out ten bottles of hand lotion tonight instead of just one. Or try to dream one that never ran out. 

Then his mind was brought back to this Adam, his Adam, and the feel of his hand underneath Ronan’s own. “Hey, man,” Ronan said, all casual, “if you want to retest the theory, I’ll lick your hands for you anytime you want.”

Which was a very weird thing to say, particularly for a—relationship?— that had started barely two weeks ago. Ronan was back to considering suffocating himself with his pillow. 

Adam’s face was as judgmental as it got, which was to say very. 

“You,” Adam said, “are so weird.”

Ronan knew only one way to deal with embarrassment. He brought the other boy’s palm to his lips and then licked a stripe from the wrist over the palm to the very tips of Adam’s fingers.

Adam jolted in surprise. “That’s—you’re— _gross_ , Lynch,” but there was a hint of something else in addition to exaggerated disgust. It showed itself in how Adam didn’t take back his hand, in Adam’s darkening eyes and the way they were fixed intensely on Ronan’s cupid bow. 

Adam swallowed, and when he spoke his voice was just on the edge of breathy. “You know, my lips are pretty dry right now too.”

It wasn’t particularly smooth, but Ronan had been far less smooth tonight, so he had no grounds to call Adam out on it. 

“Are they. Huh,” Ronan said. 

And then he leaned forward to capture Adam’s lips with his own.

Adam melted into him easily, readily, as if he’d been waiting for it desperately since Ronan arrived, a whole twenty minutes ago. Which, Ronan definitely had been. 

The kiss was close mouthed at first, and then Ronan remembered that he was supposed to be licking Adam’s lips to make them less dry or whatever, so, only to keep up the charade and for no other reason, he licked Adam’s bottom lip before his tongue fully entered Adam’s mouth. 

Adam made a soft noise and moved closer to Ronan, one hand feeling the stubble on Ronan’s jaw. The other was still lightly touching Ronan’s, slightly damp from when Ronan had licked it; Adam laced their fingers together properly, clutching tight, as if he thought Ronan might disappear, and Ronan felt that everywhere in his body, down to his toes, deep inside his lungs, his head, his heart, where he had the disgustingly sappy thought that his and Adam’s fingers were made to fit together or some horrible, embarrassing shit like that. 

Minutes or hours later, they finally stopped, both of them breathing hard and flush faced. But Adam’s lips looked too enticing, red and swollen, because of _Ronan_ , so he leaned in again despite his heaving chest and kissed lightly at the corner of Adam’s mouth, unable to do more than that without catching his breath first. Adam obliged, a helpless smile tugging at his lips.

“You were right, Parrish,” Ronan said, against Adam’s cupid’s bow. “Your lips are dry as fuck. You need some chapstick, dude.”

Adam snorted and shoved lightly at his torso. “You’re the one still kissing me.”

Ronan kissed him again, then pulled back a little just to look, taking in Adam’s tan skin, his ocean deep eyes, the cluster of freckles right at this corner of his cheekbones. “Yeah,” Ronan said simply, bumping their noses and pressing mouths together in a whisper of a kiss. “I am.”

There was no use pretending that there was anything in the world that would stop him from kissing Adam Parrish, so long as Adam let him. 

Adam smiled that small smile of his, not the elastic and amiable one, but the one that was so tiny and hesitant at his mouth and yet so large in his eyes, the way the edges crinkled and his eyebrows folded just a little in surprise at it, like they weren’t quite sure what to do with all this happiness, light and overwhelming and senseless. 

Adam’s hand disentangled from Ronan’s and came instead to stroke at his cheek, smoothed over Ronan’s strong brow, brushed over his bottom lip, the touches as careful and reverent as the way Adam was looking at him.

Ronan’s heart stuttered at all the tenderness, and decided he could never turn down an opportunity to ruin a moment. He grabbed Adam’s other hand, the one he hadn’t licked before, and ran his tongue over the palm.

Adam startled yet again, but the smile didn’t waver. “Jesus _Christ_ , Lynch,” he said, laughing. “God. You are so _weird_.”

“Sure,” Ronan agreed.

Adam rolled his eyes, and then smothered Ronan’s face with his hand, effectively wiping Ronan’s spit all over his face. Ronan could hardly be upset about that, though, because Adam’s hand still was touching his face. 

That is, until Ronan bit his thumb in retaliation, and they scuffled for another twenty seconds before settling down, Adam’s eyes searching and full on his. 

There was clearly something Adam wanted to say, so Ronan waited.

Adam chewed on his lip, fingers now tracing the back of Ronan’s palm where it rested between them. 

“This is weird, too.”

Ronan raised an eyebrow.

Adam shifted, in discomfort or in… something. “You know… you and me.”

Ronan hadn’t realized that he’d pulled his hand back and clenched his fists until Adam’s fingers were there, working the fist between their bodies open and lacing their fingers together again. 

Adam’s eyebrows were creased in concern and guilt. “Hey. Hey, relax. I didn’t mean—god. I meant _good_ weird."

Ronan hadn’t realized that he had stopped breathing until he started again.

“Oh,” Ronan exhaled.

“Really good weird,” Adam assured him, earnest and coaxing.

The softness in Adam’s voice gave Ronan some of his bravado back. “ _Good_ and _weird_ don’t really go together, Parrish.”

Adam smiled crookedly. “Well, neither did we, but somehow you’re still here in my bed.”

Ronan scoffed, surprised and loud and the slightest bit bashful with the words _you’re here in my bed_ flashing behind his eyes, settling in his ears. “ _Asshole_.”

Adam laughed, bright and smug. Then his expression sobered, and turned nearly… shy. Which wasn’t a word Ronan often associated with Adam. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

Adam huffed. “You know. Is it… is it good weird for you?”

Ronan blinked. “Don’t ask stupid questions.”

Adam shot him an annoyed look. “I’m not.”

_Well I nearly had a stroke just now when you implied you didn’t want this, Parrish, so what do you think?_

In one swift motion, Ronan rolled on top of him and kissed him. “Don’t,” —Ronan’s lips brushed Adam’s chin — “ask,” — his cheek — “stupid” — Adam’s ear, Adam’s gasp, _oh, God, Ronan,_ Adam’s nails digging into his back — “questions.”

“I was going to _sleep_ ,” Adam said as Ronan trailed kisses down his neck, and he sounded so _agonized_ , that it didn’t even hurt that much for Ronan to separate his mouth from Adam’s skin and roll over onto his back again. 

Adam’s harsh pants sent a thrill all through Ronan. 

“I didn’t tell you to stop,” Adam muttered, eyes fixed on Ronan in a glare. 

Ronan snorted. “Yeah, you kind of did. _Sleep_ , shithead. You have school tomorrow.”

“I’ll sleep if you answer my question.” 

Ronan groaned, shutting his eyes tightly. “Christ, you stubborn fucking—yes, okay? It’s good weird. Great weird. Fucking amazing weird. Happy now?”

When Ronan finally opened his eyes and looked at him, Adam was on his side, hair mussed up from all the rolling and kissing, cheeks red, smiling that stupid, beautiful smile of his, the one Ronan had seen more in these past couple weeks than his entire time of knowing Adam. He nodded, and said in a quiet, small, awed, happy voice, “Yeah. I am.”

Fuck. Ronan was crazy about him. 

It was a good thing that Adam then sat up to grab the blanket and shut the lights, because Ronan was tempted to lick his hand again. 

In the dark, their bodies under the softness of the blanket, Adam lay down beside Ronan. He looked at Ronan for only a moment before turning away from him and then reaching back to pull Ronan’s arm around him. Ronan let out a breath and adjusted so that their bodies were pressed together, so that all of him was warm. 

“Mmm,” Ronan sighed, nuzzling into Adam’s hair, wrapping his arm tighter around Adam's waist, their hands entangled. “ _Way_ better than a stuffed animal.” 

Adam shook with silent laughter. “We’re really gonna have to work on your flirting.”

“Whatever,” Ronan said, happy and unrepentant. “You’re into it.” 

Adam made an unintelligible noise, which didn’t sound like a no. 

Ronan’s smile bloomed on the back of Adam’s neck. Adam clearly felt it, and kicked his foot backwards, toes colliding with Ronan’s shin. Ronan just tangled their bodies ever closer, ever tighter against each other. 

“Shut up and go to sleep,” Adam grumbled. 

Ronan did. 

**Author's Note:**

> I would love kudos and comments if you enjoyed this! I'm on tumblr @adamparrush.


End file.
